Thank You
by Reona-chan
Summary: And he always leaves before Brandon can tell him how thankful he was. Easy/Brandon slash!


**Author's Notes: **I have no idea how this came to me. I was reading this book my parents got me for some time, and then, BAM!: my brain turned on me.

I do not know what color Brandon's eyes are. They shall be temporarily amber, with gold flecks in them. –sweatdrop- Goddamnit. If anyone knows, tell me so I can change it here.

This is my first lemon of sorts. Do forgive me if it's not very good.

Yes, Easy/Brandon is very, very disturbing. But hot. Very, very hot.

**Disclaimer: The It Girl is not mine; it is Cecily von Ziegesar's. I am only borrowing their characters.**

&&&&&&

Brandon is only a freshman the moment he steps onto campus grounds.

He is, of course, both nervous and excited at finally getting to boarding school. Where he had come from – he doesn't want to think about it – but practically everyone there hated him; either for being pretty, or for being the best squash player (he had effectively kicked a Junior's ass at it once) in the entire place, which were pretty stupid reasons in his opinion..

"Uh…" he trails off; opening the door to a room he suspects _should_ be his. He pokes his head in, blinking, and stares at the other occupant.

"Hey. You Alan?" asks the stranger, a mop of dark brown – almost black – hair atop his head, dark blue eyes looking Brandon up and down. The younger of the two smiles a little, rubbing the back of his neck.

"No. Brandon Buchanan. Are you Heath Ferro?"

It is a strange exchange of words – and the teenager found himself getting a little embarrassed around the guy.

"Nope. Easy Walsh. I think our rooming system's fucked up," answers the boy, now to be referred to as Easy, and heaves himself off the bed, a crooked grin on his handsome face. Brandon blushes only slightly, and lets a nervous, almost-grin appear on his face.

"You could put it that way."

Easy's grin is infectious. Brandon finds himself grinning at every thought of the boy after that.

&&&&&&

It is their second encounter – Brandon is exploring the grounds during free-time, and Easy pops out of nowhere from God knows where.

"Hey, Brandon, was it?" Easy says and grins (oh, that infectious grin), making his way over to the golden-haired boy; pants splattered with paint. Almost immediately Brandon grins right back at him – a response he is sure happens involuntarily.

"Yeah. Hey, Easy," replies the feminine-looking male, and he drops a flower he was holding.

"'sup?" asks the artist (or so Brandon perceives him to be one), canvas under his arm and a palette on his thumb. At this, Brandon rubs the back of his head, thinking about it.

"Nothing. Waverly's so far been nothing but boring Social Studies classes, Math shit, and other things I'd rather not discuss," the well-mannered boy replies after much consideration. He smiles again, and looks at Easy – and for a moment there his dark blue crystals merge with Brandon's amber, gold flecked ones. "How about you?"

Easy runs his fingers through his curls, effectively putting some paint in it, though not too much – the paint has thoroughly dried. Brandon resists the urge to giggle. Not a very manly sound to escape his lips.

"Pretty much as crappy as boarding school can get," he laughs, and somehow, Brandon laughs too. It is all too natural. Easy is happy, in all aspects. Brandon cannot find himself hating this boy.

Perhaps he never will.

&&&&&&

Brandon has his first kiss today. It is sloppy, wet, and very messy. He pushes the girl to the ground, not caring if she was very sensitive, and makes his way back to the dorm – unbelievably having tears in the corners of his eyes. Most of his friends have experienced kissing, and he was wondering what it was that made them keep doing it. He finds it all too messy, sloppy, and very uncomfortable, to kiss someone. Brandon does not want to kiss at all.

Almost as a miracle – Easy is in the lobby, and spotting (Brandon was feminine, he knew – and he didn't mind the tears) the golden haired boy, his impulses tell him to stand and follow.

Brandon walks into his room, flings himself onto his bed and cries. Easy walks in and shuts the door softly. The dark-haired boy lies down next to Brandon and pats him on the back. He is not one for affection, he does not hug him.

"Dude, what's wrong?" Easy finds himself talking despite how strange it must be to walk in and see two boys on the same bed. Two pubescent boys, in fact.

Brandon sniffs and wipes his tears on his Waverly maroon blazer sleeve.

"It's all fucked up, Easy," he says after regaining some composure, his teeth biting into his lower lip, "what the hell do guys see in kissing?"

Easy contemplates on this for a moment, and shrugs. Brandon is a good friend to him – and he has already given his first kiss away, so he chooses to help him out.

"Let me show you."

And the curly-haired boy lifts Brandon's chin and kisses him softly and quickly, and then pulls away a second later.

Brandon looks up at Easy and blinks.

Easy shrugs again, and runs his fingers through his massive dark curls.

Brandon quivers, and his face heats up.

The taller boy is out before Brandon can even say, "thank you."

&&&&&&

The next day Brandon is knocking on Easy's door.

"It's fucking early, man, and on a Sat –"

Easy pauses when he sees the familiar amber eyes, and he tilts his head to the side in confusion. "Morning, Brandon," he says after much consideration, and yawns adorably. Brandon nods in acknowledgment. "Morning," he finally replies.

Easy stretches, waiting for Brandon to speak.

"About yesterday…" Brandon finds himself blushing, and Easy blinks at this. He shrugs his familiar shrug and lets a grin appear on his face. "It was nothing, B," he says like it's the easiest thing in the world. Brandon blinks, mouth opening and closing in disbelief.

"See, I can do it again," Easy continues, and he pulls Brandon to him for another soft kiss. They are at the age when they do not care of social status – Easy is not embarrassed in the least, and Brandon is mostly shocked.

Brandon leans into the kiss after much thought is put into it, and when Easy's hands run along his sides, he pulls back, panting and gasping for air.

"O-Okay."

Easy smiles, and Brandon smiles back a little sheepishly. It is a secret only they will know.

&&&&&&

Gossip spreads like wildfire later in the afternoon. Alan had woken up during their illicit love affair and had sent messages to almost all in their freshman group. Everybody is talking about Easy Walsh and Brandon Buchanan.

"Brandon!" Finally Brandon hears his name, and the golden haired boy turns to look at him, blinking.

"Wha –"

He is interrupted when a punch is thrown at his face.

"What the fuck was that for?!" Brandon cries out, holding onto his cheek and wincing. Easy glares, clenching his fists.

"What the _hell_ did you tell the world?" he asks between gritted teeth, and a gasp passes between Brandon's lips. Easy is enraged at him – and he said that he didn't mind the kiss at all!

"I didn't tell them _anything_!" Brandon retorts, and realizes with a heavy heart that this might be the end of their friendship (or had it been something else all along?).

Easy curses, and looks at him with steady blue eyes.

"I hate you. I never want to see your face again."

As Easy walks away, Brandon feels like he is being shot, over and over again – and will never die.

Brandon loses the first person he has ever loved.

&&&&&&

It is their sophomore year and Brandon has a girlfriend. Her name is Callie Vernon, and she's beautiful – except for her extreme anorexic state and her slightly bitchy attitude, all is well, and Brandon wonders briefly if this is love.

It has been a long time since his last conversation with Easy – that being the time their affair had been the top story. Now it is all about Tinsley Carmichael and how hot she is. Brandon finds himself disgusted with those who think that. Tinsley is hot, yes, but an evil, conniving mind.

Today is the day Brandon and Callie choose to go to a party together.

At this point in time, Callie asks Brandon to get her a drink, and the boy complies immediately, making his way to the place where drinks were stored.

When he comes back to their meeting place, he drops what he is holding.

Callie is _gone_.

&&&&&&

The next day, Brandon realizes the inevitable.

Easy has stolen his girlfriend.

Brandon glares daggers at the back of Easy's head as he walks past, with Callie at his hip, his arm around her waist. That used to be Brandon's arm. Not anymore.

&&&&&&

Brandon Buchanan hates Easy Walsh.

He sees Easy at the stables, looking gorgeous as always, and is ready to heave what he had for lunchtime. The golden-haired boy purposely leaves the stable open and Credo gallops out. Easy will come back to see an empty stable and will have to find her. Brandon giggles with delight at the thought.

An hour or two later, from his hiding place, Brandon finds Easy returning with a frightened Credo. The artist puts her back in her stall, and reassures her that it will be okay. Brandon's stomach wretches again. He cannot bear to see how perfect the boy is.

Easy looks for the perpetrator.

Brandon holds his breath.

Easy finds him after thirty minutes of searching.

His blue eyes soften.

"Brandon…" he says with a whispered tone, and makes his way to the golden haired boy.

Brandon's amber eyes widen in fear and he stumbles away.

"I hate you!" he screams. "I fucking wanna-spit-on-your-corpse-and-laugh-as-you-die hate you!"

Easy encases Brandon's slender figure in a hug. He hugs hard, but Brandon wrenches away.

"Brandon, I'm sorry…" he tries to apologize, but Brandon is in hysterics at Easy touching him again. Not again.

"I hate you! Don't touch me, you _fucking __**bastard**_!" he shouts, tears welling up in his eyes.

"Brandon… I love you," Easy says like it's the easiest thing in the world – the nostalgia blows Brandon away, "and you love me too."

"No, I fucking don't! I motherfucking hate you! I hate everything about you! The way you look down at me, the way you never care, the way you forgot all about me when you found out about the gossip, the way you stole _my_ girlfriend – I hate it all! I hate that you're apologizing the most! I'm not _accepting_ it, and I fucking hate you!" Brandon's heart hurts at putting down Easy, but he has to.

"Don't cry," Easy says, as if the insult never occurred.

"I have something in my eye! Stop acting like you care!"

Easy sighs and reaches out to the boy. Brandon slaps his hand away, on the brink of insanity. "Get the _fuck_ away, you _fag_!"

Pain creeps into Easy's dark eyes. "Don't say that."

"Fag! Fag! You're a fucking fag, you goddamn man-whore! **I hate you!**"

Easy blinks, and sighs. He lets out a small animalistic growl and pushes Brandon against the rock he was hiding behind. He lowers his head to the shorter boy and kisses him as softly as he could, pinning him down roughly enough to bruise his delicate skin.

The golden-haired boy whimpers, unwillingly kissing back. "I-I hate you… I hate everything about you… you've only ever hurt me. If you really loved me, you wouldn't have hurt me in the first place…" He is unsure of what he is saying. He cries out softly in frustration – guilt eats away at Easy's heart.

"That's not true, Brandon. I hurt you because I was confused. I stole Callie because I loved, and am still loving, you. I wanted you to come back to me. I wanted you to see how much of a cheater she was," Easy murmurs.

"That's fucking messed up! Bastard, get off of me!" Brandon yells, pushing Easy.

"I can't explain it, B… But it's true."

"**I hate you!**" Brandon crumples to his knees, holds his face in his hands and cries loudly. "I hate you," he sobs, "you leave me alone all the time… you never talk to me anymore… who'd even think we were friends?"

"We _are_ friends. Best friends," Easy says, kneels in front of Brandon, "I love you so much, Brandon. I just can't show it anymore. I ignore you because you'll be hurt with everyone teasing you."

"You think I'm a loser."

Easy pulls the golden-haired boy's head to his chest. "No, no I don't. Don't believe what other people tell you about me. I lie," he strokes Brandon's hair lovingly, he holds him tightly and Brandon is reluctant about letting go.

"Fucking liar," he mumbles, "another thing I hate about you. How do I know this isn't a lie, like last time?"

"Does it feel like a lie?" Easy brings his lips to Brandon's neck, kisses it; rolls his tongue against the soft flesh. "Does it, Brandon?"

Brandon shudders, and grabs the other boy's shirt, a foreign noise ripping from his throat. "N-No."

"Then it isn't."

Easy moves downwards, pushes Brandon back, lies on top of him. The wind tousles their hair and the grass – the Heavens scream in protest. They tell Brandon to get Easy off. They tell him to resist temptation. They tell him to hate him more.

Easy unbuttons Brandon's shirt, and slips the sleeves off his shoulder. The younger boy moans when he feels lips against his nipples. Brandon moans despite himself, his eyes flutter closed.

"No…"

Easy pauses, pulls away, looks down at him.

"Brandon…"

Brandon's tears rolled down his cheeks, and Easy kissed them away; tastes the sadness in the saline water and licks his face dry.

Brandon rolls away and gets up, his shirt flutters to the ground. _Easy! _He hates him – he really truly does. He couldn't stand him. Did the bastard really think that he could get Brandon back after all the shit he did? After punching his face and stealing his girlfriend? Would he leave Brandon behind for a girl again? The boy didn't know.

It scared him, this feeling that brought him back to their freshman year – and yet something was mixed in there, in a sense that he had the urge to stab Easy senseless as he kissed him senseless.

"I hate you so much…"

Easy stands behind him and wraps his arms around his waist. His lips find Brandon's neck again, that tender spot where neck met shoulder and brought about beautiful moans from Brandon's lips. The younger boy's knees buckle, yet Easy still holds him upright, his lips trail along that wonderful neck and he bites hard enough to leave a mark. To show that Brandon was his forever.

Brandon wants to scream, to yell, to push away and kill, but his body – his _heart_ would not obey.

_Hate, hate, hate!_ his rational mind screamed.

_Want, want, want! _And yet his body and heart betrayed him.

Brandon turns around, and Easy kisses him again, trying vainly to put in it everything he could not find words to express. Brandon leans into the kiss, and he cries tears out of frustration as he does so, of annoyance, of anger.

Easy pulls away, kisses his forehead affectionately. "I _**love**_ you, Brandon."

Brandon did not protest as Easy's kisses trailed downward, moved towards his pulse and ran his tongue along the beating skin. He does not scream when the boy lowers his lips to cover a nipple, taking in a tender bud and sucking on it; causing the younger of the two to moan. He does not push Easy away when he removes the button to his jeans and uses his thumbnail to pull down his zipper – and he does not resist when the elastic of his boxers is being pulled down.

"A-Ah!"

Brandon screams in delight as Easy's tongue licks the milky bead of pre-cum, and feels his knees buckle when his pulsating organ's head is taken into the older boy's mouth. He moans, leans against the rock; hips thrusting into the warm, moist cavern at the precise moment Easy takes him in deeper. He moans out the older boy's name as he fondles his balls, fingers lost in dark curls and hips moving back and forth in a hungered motion.

Easy jerks his head a little, and sucks harder; tongue encircling around the head as he hummed lowly.

The vibration causes Brandon to tilt his head back and scream Easy's name in pleasure, up to the high Heavens – and his seed shoots out of him, Easy choking a little yet attempting to swallow it all. Some of his remains drip from his lips, and he licks it off the corner of his mouth.

Easy holds his finger out to Brandon.

"Suck."

Brandon whimpers, takes the finger into his mouth and sucks onto it, his saliva turning the skin wet, tongue snaking around it. Easy moans a little out of pleasure, though takes the digit out, looking at Brandon as if asking for silent approval.

Brandon does not give him the satisfaction.

The finger is inserted into his entrance anyway.

Brandon squirms at the intrusion, gasping. It did not hurt – it was uncomfortable, and inside he wondered if it was sanitary. Easy grins a little, and inserts a second; causing Brandon to moan his name in sinful delight. He inserts a third and scissors it, stretching the opening – Brandon's screams now that of pain, yet so frustratingly mixed with undeniable pleasure.

"O-Oh God, Easy…" he moans, pressing down against those fingers, amber eyes glazed over with passion.

Easy grins, and is satisfied.

His pants fall to the ground along with his underwear, and Easy positions Brandon's legs to be above his shoulders, hands gripping his hips. "Relax, okay?" he says, kissing the tip of Brandon's cock, causing the golden-haired one to let out a soft moan. Brandon does not give a reaction, and Easy thrusts himself upward, Brandon screaming out of pain – nails digging into the hard rock as ache seeped through his body.

Easy kisses his tears away before Brandon can realize he's crying.

Easy moves, Brandon closes his eyes tightly, and screams again and again every time he is penetrated, every time Easy's (large) member slammed in and out of him, and Brandon is almost sure his throat will run dry.

"Easy!" The artist's name is screamed as he continues to thrust, attempting to go deeper with every movement.

A loud shout of approval is called when stars explode in Brandon's vision, and he arches into Easy's body. "Oh my God, do that again," he whimpers, and Easy complies with a naughty smirk plastered on his handsome face.

He moves his cock in and out, slamming into Brandon's prostate with each time, and lowers one of his hands to hold his member, coating it with Brandon's pre-cum as it was dripping once more.

Easy finds Brandon's screams delightful, and he kisses him hard and passionate – their tongues swirling around in Brandon's mouth and rubbing against each other as the artist continues jerking off on Brandon's dick and thrusting in and out of him.

It is then Brandon throws his head back, bumps it against rock and screams Easy's name loudest – arching his back fully and releasing all over Easy's hand and onto their stomachs and chests.

Not soon after does Easy release, groaning loudly and biting down once more onto Brandon's shoulder, causing him to wince and bleed. Their act of lovemaking leaves evidence – semen is splattered all over the boulder and on the grass. Brandon is crying again, and Easy kisses him softly, lovingly; fingers on both sides of his face.

"I love you, Brandon," he whispers against his cheek, and Brandon closes his eyes.

"Okay."

And again, Easy cleans them up and leaves before Brandon can even say "thank you."

&&&&&&

**Author's Notes: **Err… yeah. It's strange, isn't it… -coughs a little- Anyway. DO NOT TAKE THIS SERIOUSLY. THIS WAS WRITTEN FOR SICK PLEASURE OF A DEMENTED AUTHOR.

Who loves Easy/Brandon.

Yeah. The ultimate crack pairing besides Heath/Brandon, wherein Brandon will always be uke. That metrosexual of a beast.

Reviews?


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